


Beasts of Burden

by SmoothGrit



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26191795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoothGrit/pseuds/SmoothGrit
Summary: Crowstar was being uncharacteristically kind when he accepted an injured rogue kit into his Clan as a ward, especially when his Clan had already been at war with the lawless felines for seasons. What he has lost to them is irretrievable, but he soon realizes what kind of potential this kit has in store for his Clan. That potential could either lead them to victory or destroy them.
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thank you for taking the time to read this little fic of mine. It’s actually something I put together with some friends a few years ago in a Warriors RP and never got to finishing due to… well, life. Anyhow, I’ve lost touch with all of these friends over time and this story means a lot to me, mostly because of them. I’ve made a few adjustments to the original for narrative purposes, but if anyone from our little group comes across this, I just want you all to know that I’ll always cherish the time we spent together.

BoulderClan  
Leader:  
Crowstar- Tall, lean jet-black tom with yellow eyes and an exceptionally long tail. 

Deputy: Cedarfall- Muscular pale brown tabby with green eyes. Apprentice: Wolfpaw

Medicine Cat:   
Maplefur- Short-furred tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes and white front legs. Apprentice: Dewpaw

Warriors:   
Stoneclaw- Gray-and-white tomcat with green eyes.   
Nightbird- Small-framed black she-cat with yellow eyes and a long, winding tail. Apprentice: Stormpaw  
Hookclaw- Massive black-furred tom with yellow eyes.   
Fawnstep- Light brown she-cat with faint tabby markings. Apprentice: Tigerpaw  
Specklestorm- Tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes.   
Robinwing- Small, dark brown she-cat with a pale muzzle and underbelly. Apprentice: Ryepaw

Apprentices:   
Ryepaw- Golden brown tom with light green eyes and long whiskers.   
Dewpaw- Black-and white she-cat with blue eyes.  
Wolfpaw- long-haired dark gray tom with a long, plumy tail and wide, watchful amber eyes.   
Tigerpaw- Stark ginger-furred tom coated in dark mackerel stripes.  
Stormpaw- Silver tabby with amber eyes and a long, feathery tail. 

Queens:   
Woodtail- brown mackerel tabby with a pale underbelly and white paws.   
Whitefeather- Pretty, well-groomed pure white she-cat with vivid green eyes.   
Flamewing- Dark ginger she-cat with a dash of white on her chest and a white tail-tip. 

Elders:  
Buzzardpelt- Elderly lyoki cat with a black coat of fur that has slowly become gray and dull.   
Tawnyleaf- Tawny she-cat dappled with white.   
Owlfeather- Brown-and-white tabby she-cat with a grayed muzzle and shaggy fur.


	2. Crowstar

Watching the sun rise every morning had become ritual for Crowstar since he had received his nine lives, but this morning in particular the rain had poured relentlessly, and the sun was hidden away behind the murky shadow of a raincloud. No one in BoulderClan liked the rain, but it was a necessary evil to Crowstar, for the rain made the trees flourish, and when the trees flourished, so did the prey. The drum of rainfall, much like the sound of the footfall of a dozen warriors, pleased him to some extent. Crowstar traded one small pleasure for another and decided to listen to the rain instead.  
From his nest he had a clear view to the entrance of his camp. The scene was still, quiet, until the latest patrol had made their way through the sedge tunnel. They made a beeline for the medicine den, arousing some suspicion from the tom. The dark fur on the tip of his spine rose. Crowstar could smell blood.  
The leader was on his paws when Whitefeather approached him. Her fur was damp, and the she-cat was out of breath. The concern in her perfect evergreen eyes spoke volumes before she could say a word. “A kit was found injured at the bottom of the ravine,” she said, tense.  
Her words dealt Crowstar a harsh blow. “One of ours?”  
“Not BoulderClan,” she mewed back. “And not MinnowClan or MoorClan, either.”  
“A rogue, then.”  
“It’s likely.”  
Crowstar allowed himself to relax a bit, knowing his clanmates were safe, but still felt a tinge of guilt knowing that Whitefeather’s concern would not have wavered in the slightest. She was kind and compassionate to all cats, regardless of where they come from or who they are. Crowstar knew he was not the same, however. His duty was to his clan, but a kit in need was still a kit in need. “Where is Maplefur?” he asked.  
“She’s in the medicine den doing all that she can. She wants no cat to disturb her until she has finished.”  
“Any sign of the kit’s parents?”  
She shook her head. “Not in this rain.”  
Satisfied that the kit did not belong to his or any clan, Crowstar sat back on his haunches. He beckoned Whitefeather to sit beside him, where it was dry. “What do you recommend we do with this kit if it lives?”  
“Surely not return it to the forest!” she mewed back, shock in her tone. “If no cat comes forward to claim him, then we must teach him the way of the warrior code and raise him as one of BoulderClan.”  
Crowstar did not like the idea, but he considered it. He considered all of Whitefeather’s ideas, even though she was not his deputy. He had a great admiration and respect for her, as he has had for as long as he’s known her. “And if the clan disagrees?”  
“I doubt any cat would dare dispute the warrior code. Besides,”--Whitefeather grinned--“The word of the Clan leader is law.”  
At this, the tom chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.” He twines his thin, long tail with her wet one.  
“Aren’t I always?”  
The she-cat pressed her flank against his, a fond purr ringing out in the den. Crowstar didn’t mind that she was sopping wet. Her sweet berry scent wreathed around him and summoned forth a feeling of love greater than anything he’d ever known. “How are our kits?” he asked warmly.  
“They get more and more beautiful every day,” she said without missing a beat. “It’s a good thing they take after their mother.”  
Crowstar smiled at that. Whitefeather really was quite gorgeous. Crowstar found his own appearance to be quite unremarkable. His daughters, Frostkit and Hollykit, bear a striking resemblance to their mother, and if Whitefeather is any indication of what they will look like in the future, then Crowstar is sure they will be just as beautiful. He buried his muzzle into the fur of his mate’s shoulder, suddenly appreciative of all that he had. A few moments in complacent silence passed before Crowstar heard a set of pawsteps approaching.  
He recognized Cedarfall, his deputy, standing before him and beckoned the tom into the den where it is dry. The tom graciously accepted, shaking the heavy raindrops out of his brown tabby fur. “We have spotted more rogues near the MoorClan border,” he said. “Our patrol tracked them all the way past the thunderpath and toward Horseplace. I believe that’s where they’re hiding, Crowstar.”  
Crowstar and Whitefeather exchanged a look. BoulderClan had been at war with these hostile rogues for moons. They lived just beyond BoulderClan’s boundaries and often tested the strength of their borders, trying to secure Clan territory for themselves. If that kit belonged to them it would provide a convenient excuse for the rogues to terrorize his Clan further. Crowstar’s hackles rose, but he said nothing. “Good work, Cedarfall,” he meowed instead.  
“We’re not going after them, are we?” Whitefeather asked. The real question she was asking is in her eyes, soft and green and blazing with importance.  
“Not unless we have to,” the leader said back. He leaned forward and nuzzled her soft pelt one last time. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Cedarfall alone now.”  
Whitefeather nods, purring against the warmth of her mate before she ruefully parts from his pelt. When she is out of sight, Crowstar leans in close to his deputy and speaks so low that Cedarfall isn’t sure that he’d heard him correctly. “Gather a patrol of our best warriors tonight. We attack at moonhigh.”


	3. Maplefur

There were many reasons that Maplefur accepted the task of nursing this strange kit back to health when Whitefeather brought him to her. One of those reasons was that Whitefeather was one of the very few cats in BoulderClan that Maplefur did not consider a berry-brain. She had strong convictions about the welfare of all cats, regardless of what Clan they belonged to, which was very much not unlike the ideals that medicine cats are taught during their apprenticeship. A warrior who saw above the divisive nature of Clan borders was very rare, and Maplefur had a deep respect for her as a result.   
The most compelling reason, however, that Maplefur had accepted this duty, was simply because it would be a challenge, and she so dearly did love a challenge. When the kit had first been delivered to her, he was just barely clinging onto life, and it was clear from the moment she saw him that the chances of that poor scrap making it through the night were tragically slim. Despite that, Maplefur had predicted that six suns would rise and fall before he would make a full recovery, and although no cat was keeping count, she held herself to that time frame more so to test her own abilities.   
Maplefur had seasons worth of experience at her disposal, and she’d used what she knew well. On the first day she bound sticks to his front paw with bindweed for his damaged front leg, rubbed her own special poultice into his superficial wounds to ward off infection, and coated an assortment of bitter tasting herbs in honey for a wide array of ailments she suspected he had from being left out in the rain in leafbare. When the kit had arrived, he was not strong enough to eat, and so Maplefur had to chew the herbs herself before she fed them to him. The task was quite the labor for the medicine cat, but she treated the duty like her own personal project, and by the end of the first day she’d already noticed a significant improvement in his health.   
Dawn of the second day had just barely begun when Maplefur was jarred awake by several sets of footsteps charging into her den, talking over each other frantically and crowding the medicine cat. There were far too many cats crammed into the den as it was, and they trampled the carefully sorted herbs she’d collected while also bumping into the two nests on the far side of the den that belonged to Dewpaw and her newest patient. Dewpaw started awake, her eyes wide and alert. The kit shifted in his own nest, frowning in his sleep and crying out in a feeble mew. Maplefur guessed that one of the warriors had bumped into him, aggravating his injuries.   
A flash of irritation surged through the tortoiseshell. She flattened her ears and silenced the cats with an angry hiss. “Out. Now.”  
With no cat wanting to incur the medicine cat’s wrath, the warriors quickly backed out of the medicine den without a word. She followed them, tail lashing furiously behind her. When they were all outside of the base of the hollowed oak, she strode up to the tabby leading the patrol, Cedarfall, and growled. “With that berry-brained stunt you just pulled, some cat had better be dying.”   
Cedarfall met her gaze defiantly. “Crowstar has been gravely injured and we fear he may be losing a life. Is that important enough for you?”   
All the anger had drained out of Maplefur in an instant. “How in StarClan-”   
“Rogues ambushed our patrol at the border,” he responded quickly. It sounded rehearsed, and Maplefur decided then that she didn’t believe him.   
“Where is he now?” Dewpaw asked.   
“Stoneclaw carried him back to his den.” The deputy turned quickly and beckoned them to follow with his tail. “He collapsed before we made it through the entrance. You’ll need to hurry.”   
They all headed for Crowstar’s den on the other side of camp, a narrow crack in a sheer rock face. The entrance was only big enough for one cat to go through at a time. Before any cat could get through, Maplefur blocked the entrance with her tail. “Any cat who is not dying may excuse themselves now. Thank you.”   
Several cats bristled at this, but none crossed Maplefur. They backed away and retreated to the warriors’ den without argument. That just left Cedarfall, Dewpaw, and herself. They slithered in one by one, and on the far side of the den they found Crowstar lying on his side, ribs jutting out at unnatural angles. His chest looked as if it had been caved in, and his breathing was labored and ragged. The den reeked of blood, and the tom could be heard emitting soft grunts with every exhale. Maplefur suspected trauma in his lungs and much, much more.   
She approached Crowstar to appraise his injuries from up close. His fur was ragged, and several droplets of blood lay scattered around the floor of the den. He had been coughing up blood, it seemed. She listed the herbs she would need to treat him, and with a nod Dewpaw was off to retrieve them. When her apprentice was gone, Maplefur leaned in close to Crowstar and narrowed her eyes. “What happened to you?”   
“Those… fox-hearts… attacked us on our own land…” He struggled between gasps, his claws flexing. Maplefur could tell he was in a great deal of pain. “They were… on their way to camp… We cut them off… before they could reach… the entrance…”   
Maplefur’s ear twitched. Cedarfall had told her something different. “Wow, and no cat heard you? That must have been the quietest battle in the history of the Clans.”   
Maplefur could feel Cedarfall’s eyes burning into her from behind. He knew that Maplefur could see through their lies, but still he remained silent.   
When Dewpaw returned, she was carrying far too many herbs on a leaf that was much too small, and many of them fell to the ground as she scrambled over to Maplefur. The medicine cat patiently picked up the herbs from the ground and brought them to Crowstar. He parted his jaws meekly, and the berries went in. Only then did his breathing relax.   
“What did that do?” asked Cedarfall, who watched from afar.   
Maplefur looked at Dewpaw, who paused for a moment to remember. “They’re relaxants, I think.”   
The deputy’s eyes widened. “How on earth is that going to help him recover?”  
“It’s not,” Maplefur responded evenly. “Their purpose is to help him feel no pain.”  
“Have you got bees in your brain? Help him! Your leader is dying!”  
Maplefur shook her head. “His injuries are internal, you berry-brain. There’s nothing more I can do for him unless you’d like to crawl into his mouth and work on him from the inside.”   
Her tone was nothing short of blase. She had been healing cats long enough to know when she could save them and when she couldn’t. The deputy’s tail lashed furiously, but he bit his tongue. He, just like every other cat, knew there was no use arguing with Maplefur. She was glad that he had more sense than to challenge her.   
Suddenly, as if on cue, Crowstar’s body convulsed violently, and after breathing one last ragged breath, the air filling his lungs slowly seeped out past his teeth. His eyes glazed over and suddenly, the den was quiet. Dewpaw and Maplefur exchanged a meaningful look. Crowstar was dead.   
Cedarfall bowed his head out of respect, but Maplefur was trying to remember how many lives the leader had lost. She was sure that this was his eighth, which meant that he could sustain only one more death before he was to join StarClan for good.   
“What now?” asked Dewpaw. She’d seen cats die before, but never a leader.   
“Now we wait. His wounds will heal on their own.”   
It was then that Maplefur had noticed that Cedarfall was gone. She assumed he had left to tell Whitefeather what had happened. Dewpaw, however, was waiting for Crowstar to awaken with wide eyes, staring down his lifeless body as if she might miss it if she blinked. Maplefur decided she should probably get her out of the den while it happened. “Fetch me some water,” she said simply. With a nod and a bound, the apprentice was gone again.   
She waited wordlessly for what felt like moons before the black tom began to stir once more. Watching a leader come back to life was truly a remarkable thing; it shouldn’t be possible on any physical level, and yet, those blank, unfocused green eyes were sharp once again, slitted and crackling with rage. Slowly, the leader’s chest had begun to revert back to its natural form. The sound of a pained gasp filled the air. When he finally caught his breath, the tom hissed and slammed his paw down onto the cold cave floor. “That was my eighth.”   
“I know,” she replied. “How did this happen?”   
The question was asked the way a mother would ask her kit if she already knew the answer. Crowstar searched her eyes to gauge her expression, but found nothing. As always, she was perfectly unreadable. “I already told you, we were attacked. Those rogues overpowered us.”   
Again, Maplefur’s ear twitched. “With those injuries? Great StarClan, were you fighting cats or horses?!”   
At this comment, Crowstar’s gaze had broken from Maplefur’s. It finally dawned on her what had been done. The mottled feline’s lip curled back into a snarl, unable to hide her disgust. “You tried to raid Horseplace with your warriors last night, didn’t you? And then what, you got trampled?”   
Crowstar’s fur began to rise with indignance. “What, are you going to make me clean ticks off the elders as punishment? Make me change moss?” He met her challenging stare with a defiant one. “Don’t you forget, I’m your leader and we are at war. What I choose to do is none of your concern.”  
The medicine cat scoffed. “I never thought in all my days that I would outlive two leaders in my lifetime.”   
At this point, Dewpaw had returned with a ball of moss that was soaked in water dangling from her jaws. She seemed unaware of the confrontation that was ensuing as she set the moss down in front of Crowstar, turning back to her mentor and finally realizing that she was glaring at him with looks that could set the whole forest ablaze.   
“Oh, Dewpaw, I’m glad you’re back,” said Maplefur. The sarcasm in her tone was thicker than molasses. “I was just wondering, When Cedarfall becomes leader of BoulderClan, do you think he will eagerly throw all nine lives away just as fast as Crowstar? Or do you think he will only die sparingly, and save me the trouble of having to waste my herbs on another old, dirty lump of fur who thinks he knows everything?”   
“Watch your tongue, Maplefur,” Crowstar replied. He rarely had to issue warnings of this magnitude.   
Dewpaw, who was caught completely off guard by this exchange, stammered for a response. “O-oh, um… Uh…”   
Maplefur did not wait for her reply. She whirled around and shouldered her way out of the den with a single movement. “Let’s go, Dewpaw.”   
The black-and-white apprentice cast her leader an apologetic glance before slithering out of the den once more to catch up with her mentor, who was still very obviously seething over what happened. “That berry-brained, fox-hearted, flea-ridden scoundrel!” Her claws were unsheathed and digging up clumps of dirt as she went by. The sun was already up, and cats were beginning to emerge from their dens now. She hissed at anyone who stared after her as she passed. “I swear to you, Dewpaw, if that kit survives I will never allow him to become one of these false-hearted cats we call warriors.”   
She spoke with such conviction that Dewpaw knew she meant it. The trouble with Maplefur’s convictions was that when she sets her mind to something, there is little any cat could do to stop her, even Crowstar himself. The apprentice sighed. This feud was far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was reeeeeally tempted to say "thicker than a bowl of oatmeal" toward the end there. Lord help me.


End file.
